


Keeping Busy

by kusege



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Winona, F/F, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Stimming, What the fuck is the proper plural of Ewecus, character study with plot, discussion of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 08:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19205740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kusege/pseuds/kusege
Summary: “She’s sitting by the fire with the others, and while they all eat and talk and congratulate one another on the day’s hunt, she just sits and- andfidgets.”Winona is most comfortable when her hands are moving, working on something. She’s not sure why.





	Keeping Busy

**Author's Note:**

> As an autistic lesbian, I love Winona more than I love myself, and wildly projected this into existence. Enjoy!

Winona’s hands cannot still.

She hates having nothing to do with them,  _ hates _ it, so much that some days it is an unrelenting itch under her skin when she has to sleep, because her hands feel the need to move and create and do  _ something _ . When she was younger, she used to busy herself by braiding her sister’s hair, over and over again, making it tight so she’d have more to do. Her sister never minded, she said it felt relaxing and nice, and it was easier to keep in. It had taken her some time to learn to do it without tugging too hard, but now she’s practically an expert.

Some days, she braids Genevieve’s hair, taking a few of her ringlet curls and twisting them around each other. She can fit in lots of tiny braids that way, and it’s a good intimacy for nights where other forms are unavailable to them. Having her head in her lap, fingers brushing her scalp, laying together in an exhausted, well-worked silence. Sometimes, Gen’s lips will meet her calloused palms as she goes to pick up another set of strands for the next braid, and it makes her melt. 

But there are times when Gen is busy or when they can’t find that kind of privacy or when she’s simply not in the mood for that kind of thing, when someone else’s touch is too much for Winona to handle. In those times, she struggles to calm herself. Sometimes she removes her gloves and rubs her fingertips along the textured fabric of her overalls. Other times, she scrapes her fingernails along the rough walls, wearing away at the pointier bits until a slightly smoother surface remains, but that tears up her fingernails like nothing else, and it takes days for them to start to smooth back out again. She’s taken off her bandana and wound it around her fingers over and over again. She’s found herself chewing the inside of her cheeks to the point of blood, or grinding her teeth, which only gives her a headache, or picking at her hands until the skin wears away, or just plain  _ fidgeting _ , leg-bouncing finger-tapping body-rocking fidgeting.

She prides herself on her work ethic, but she’s not sure if it’s that or just her hatred of being still. After all, there’s things about work she struggles to stand- the sudden loud noises of machines and fellow workers, other people’s presence so strong she sometimes feels she can’t breathe, the sense that she isn’t doing enough, the dangers of the factory that make it hard to survive at times- but at least it keeps her hands busy.

—

She’s sitting by the fire with the others, and while they all eat and talk and congratulate one another on the day’s hunt, she just sits and- and  _ fidgets _ . 

Today, they went out as a group- the risk of a Varg weighed heavy on everyone’s minds, especially after last winter’s fiasco in which Willow nearly lost her hand to blue hounds- and it had proven to be worth the precaution. Ewecuses were not quite so dangerous to stumble across, all things considered, but they were still more or less deadly to fight alone. At least, that was what she had heard. She’d never seen one of the creatures before today, though now that she has, she agrees with the others. The nasty being could pack one hell of a punch- or kick, as it were- and she was glad she’d managed to avoid its attacks. She was also glad for the presence of her gloves, as a few of the others had had their hands scratched up by the Ewecus’ metallic wool. 

But now, her gloves were off, and she was holding in her lap that same wool. So far as she could tell, it was true steel, a fact which uplifted and captivated her for reasons she didn’t grasp fully. The small ball of spun metal was rough and not quite comfortable to the touch. Her thumb ran back and forth over the scratchy surface. Her eyes stared to the fire, not truly seeing it. In fact, its light was wholly lost on her, mind focusing instead on the feeling of the wool in her hands and on her thumb and the fact that  _ it was steel _ . 

“Miss Winona?”

She blinked, almost lazily, like she’d forgotten she needed it. Her breaths were slow and even, and the firelight burned through her pupils like a line of gunpowder. Her jaw was relaxed and her head was starting to droop. She was perfectly at peace.

“Miss Winona, you’re starting to scare us.”

She blinked again, and again, a few times. Winona shook her head rapidly, drawing herself out of whatever trance she’d managed to trap herself in, and looked up. Webber had gotten between her and the fire, and all of their eyes were contoured in worry. She opened her mouth, feeling for a moment too relaxed to speak, before her tongue found the willpower to move.

“I’m alright, bud, just thinking. You want something?”

They perked up a bit at her response, although their spider legs were still held close together in a sign of nervousness. “Oh, we’re fine, Miss Winona! Wendy was just wondering if you were willing to braid her hair again, but she can’t come over to ask, so she asked us to!”

Winona looked over at where Wendy sat. She was cradling her sister’s flower close, and spider-silk bandages were wrapped tightly around her chest. The girl had taken a nasty beating today, and while her sister had done her best to protect her after the initial armor-shattering hit, she’d still taken a fair amount of damage from the beast. Maxwell had carried her back to camp, apparently too worried to complain about the labor, and she’d been damn brave. Wendy hadn’t cried at all, even through all that pain. 

Part of Winona was proud, but another part wanted to scream and tear out her own hair because it wasn’t  _ fair _ for a small child to be so accustomed to pain like that, and she’d put so much work into protecting her sister and  _ god, Charlie, what are you doing? _

She forced herself to smile, and stood up, ruffling Webber’s scalp fur. “You know I’m always down to tame those pigtails of hers, especially after how much of a fight she put up today.” Ignoring the guilt in her stomach of having to pride a  _ child  _ on not dying,  she walked over to where the girl sat. 

She was fidgeting too, rubbing a petal of her sister’s flower between her finger and thumb. Winona slipped the steel wool in the front pocket of her overalls- a slight pain gripping her heart at having to put it away- and pulled her gloves back on. “Hey there, kid. I hear you want some braids put in tonight?”

Wendy’s empty eyes looked up to her, and she nodded. Winona nodded back, and sat down behind her, fingers already starting to comb through the frizzy curls of her left pigtail. It wasn’t as good as the steel wool- real  _ steel _ \- but at the very least it was something else calming to do with her hands. She hummed an old song as she worked, words seeming to be too much this late into the dusk. Her hands moved quick with skill and practice. As she finished each one, she pulled out a nice strand of dried grass and tied it securely around each end, knots ensuring that the braid would stay in until Wendy decided to be done with it. 

At some point, Wendy started humming along- a totally different song, one that Winona thought might have been an old lullaby, but a song nonetheless. Winona began to sway slightly, her own humming dropping off in favor of Wendy’s. The quiet tune was much more suited to the atmosphere, as they were secluded from the more ecstatic and wild part of the camp. 

She was sad when Wendy’s braids were done, but refused to let it show. “All done, kiddo,” she said, wiping her hands on her overalls. Wendy turned around to look at her, smiling slightly. 

“Thank you,” she said, voice hoarse and painful, before coughing violently. Webber put a claw on her shoulder. She waved her hand reassuringly, but the coughing did not subside for a minute. Once it did, she leaned onto her friend, who helped her to her feet.

“We’re going to help Wendy to her tent,” they said, cheerful tone not diminished. “Goodnight, Miss Winona!”

“Goodnight,” she echoed. As she watched the two walk off- slowly, and not without some stumbling- her hand slipped into her front pocket and found the steel wool again. 

Even if she managed to calm her hands, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to sleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Me, at one in the morning, scrolling through the DS wiki: WINONA’S FAST CRAFTING IS A FORM OF STIMMING AND SHE HAS A MILD SPECIAL INTEREST IN STEEL YOU CANT PROVE ME WRONG  
> My loving gf: sure thing honey


End file.
